rain

Mushrooms 1 by oskarholmberg
Mushrooms 1 by oskarholmberg

by Mary Oliver

Last night

the rain

spoke to me

slowly, saying,

what joy

to come falling out of the brisk cloud,

to be happy again

in a new way on the earth!

That’s what it said as it dropped,

smelling of iron,

and vanished

like a dream of the ocean

into the branches

and the grass below.

Then it was over.

The sky cleared.

I was standing

under a tree.

The tree was a tree

with happy leaves,

and I was myself,

and there were stars

in the sky that were also themselves

at the moment

at which moment

my right hand

was holding my left hand

which was holding the tree

which was filled with stars

and the soft rain –

imagine! imagine!

the long and wondrous journeys

still to be ours.

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